


Still Here

by falsteloj



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: Bittersweet, First Kiss, M/M, Romance, Sex Pollen, Sharing a Bed, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-13
Updated: 2015-09-15
Packaged: 2018-04-20 11:50:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4786292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/falsteloj/pseuds/falsteloj
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A few Jamie/Doctor drabbles and ficlets, because I couldn't help myself!</p><p>1. <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/4786292/chapters/10951595">Jamie can't quite remember.</a> [G]<br/>2. <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/4786292/chapters/10963760">Trope: Cold.</a> [G]<br/>3. <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/4786292/chapters/10969502">Trope: Sharing a Bed.</a> [T]<br/>4. <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/4786292/chapters/10985759">The Doctor revisits Jamie.</a> [G]<br/>5. <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/4786292/chapters/10988390">The Doctor knows he shouldn't.</a> [G]<br/>6. <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/4786292/chapters/10993130">Trope: Sex Pollen.</a> [T]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Half Remembered

**Author's Note:**

> Doctor/Jamie drabble because I read The Highlanders and it only became more obvious.

Jamie knows things he is not supposed to.

He knows that men have swam at the bottom of the sea, and that they have flown in the skies. When sleep refuses to come he stares up at the night sky and knows that man has stepped foot on the face of the moon. He knows it just as certainly as he knows the lines of his own palm.

Perhaps he knows it better because, sometimes, when he looks at his hands he cannot recognise them. They ought to be hard, calloused with honest work. Instead they are soft in all the wrong places, and clumsy over tasks which should be as familiar as breathing.

His fingers feel foreign against the scars marking wounds he has no memory of receiving. Another’s touch has traced them, he knows, and he craves for its return with a passion greater even than that he feels for his Laird and for his country.

When sleep does claim him he dreams of it. Of tender, ghostlike caresses, and the press of lips curved into a smile. He does not see the face, cannot remember why its owner means so much to him. Makes him feel so sure of himself though he has been told all his life such a thing is a terrible sin.

It cannot be more terrible than the loneliness he battles. The longing for places he has never been, and the gnawing ache for someone he has never known. Never loved, because he knows well enough what the emptiness in his chest represents.

He prays for the sensation to end, for it to always continue. He prays for the shadow figure haunting his every movement, and he prays for salvation.

It brings him no comfort.

He knows there is nothing more for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	2. Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obligatory attempt at the 'it's cold' trope.

“I’m not cold.”

The Doctor chose to hold his tongue and not point out the fact that it was only the tight clench of Jamie’s jaw preventing the chattering of his teeth from becoming audible. Instead he busied himself for the fourth time in searching his pockets for something that might start a fire.

It really was a most unfortunate oversight.

Because the storm would blow over, sooner or later, and then they would have but little difficulty in trudging back to the TARDIS. It was the interim which worried him. Jamie was shivering violently, uncontrollable, and stubborn pride alone would not be able to overcome that regrettable human tendency towards hypothermia.

“I shouldn’t have let you talk me into this,” the Doctor said then, and the recrimination in his voice was meant for himself rather than his companion. “You would have been much more comfortable waiting for me in the TARDIS.”

He didn’t say ‘safer’ because he didn’t need to. They both heard it loud and clear.

Jamie didn’t argue, as the Doctor had predicted, and he didn’t pout, proud and haughty, as the Doctor knew he oughtn’t to have imagined. Instead Jamie looked away, hurt, and the movement panicked the Doctor so completely with its unexpectedness that he had moved to the other’s side before he had the chance to reconsider the action.

“I don’t mean to,” Jamie started, faltered, and the uncharacteristic doubt in his voice was enough for the Doctor to take one of Jamie’s ice cold hands in his own. Jamie glanced at him, then away, voice dropping to a murmur, “I never meant to be a burden to you.”

It was the cold, combined with the darkness of the cave they had sought shelter in. It had to be. Because Jamie was invariably as certain of himself as the Doctor increasingly found his own certainties confused and fractured, for all that he had once thought himself above such foolishness.

Foolishness it was, he told himself, even as he stepped still closer to Jamie. Even as the hand not lacing itself with Jamie’s fingers found the angle of his jaw.

“Doctor?” Jamie breathed, eyes wide though his tone was hopeful.

They were only this close for warmth, the Doctor thought wildly. For reassurance. It wasn’t true he finally conceded, the twin thudding of his hearts growing more frantic, to match the answering thrum of Jamie’s pulse. The breathless gasp as the Doctor let his lips touch the chilled skin of Jamie’s cheek.

He wasn’t much in the habit of revealing his most private thoughts, of admitting to the hopes and the dreams he had no right to harbour. It didn’t matter. He could not have held back, not even had he wanted to,

“Jamie, I’d be lost without you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	3. Trope: Sharing a Bed

Jamie had a terrible knack for getting himself into trouble.

For that reason the Doctor was more than happy when their hosts led Zoe to one bedroom and he and Jamie to another. This way he wouldn’t have to worry about Jamie wandering off in the night and landing himself in the middle of yet more mischief.

He was so busy feeling pleased about the turn of events that it took a few moments to register that the room had only one bed in it.

It was a big bed, to be sure, and looked singularly comfortable with its fluffy pillows and quilted eiderdown. But the fact remained that there were two of them and only one of it. It would not do at all.

“This won’t do at all,” he said aloud, trying not to notice the way Jamie had toed out of his boots and socks and was, even as he spoke, pulling his sweater up and over his head.

“Och, I don’t snore, Doctor,” Jamie said with a smile, now occupied with unclasping his kilt. “Besides, it’s plenty big enough for two.”

The Doctor deliberately kept his gaze away from Jamie. The word association was most unfortunate.

“I dare say,” the Doctor said, horribly aware that the direction his thoughts were wandering in was most inappropriate. “Still, I think it would be best if I were to ask for a separate room.”

“Why?” Jamie demanded, entirely too insistent and entirely too naked for the Doctor’s liking. He could feel the blush creeping across his cheeks.

“Well,” the Doctor floundered, “because, well.”

“Exactly,” Jamie said, with a tone of satisfaction.

So it was that he found himself undressing under Jamie’s too watchful gaze, before slipping underneath the covers, skin charged and tingling with the knowledge of just how close Jamie was beside him.

He lay awake for a long time, tense and uncomfortable. Tense because he didn’t want to relax and risk brushing against Jamie accidentally, or otherwise. Uncomfortable because he didn’t want Jamie to realise the fact. Didn’t want to have to explain to Jamie his reasoning.

“Are you awake, Doctor?” Jamie asked eventually into the darkness and, before he had decided on the wiser course of action, Jamie interpreted his silence as permission to settle closer still. Close enough to rest one hand against the thin fabric of the shirt the Doctor had had the foresight not to remove. Close enough to pillow his head against him and, when the Doctor repositioned his arm, just because the lack of blood flow was becoming critical, Jamie made no effort to excuse or explain the decision.

The Doctor let the arm wrap itself around Jamie, at a loss as to what else to do with it, and refused to acknowledge the way his hearts skipped at Jamie’s sleepy murmur of approval.

It seemed it wasn’t only Jamie who had a knack for finding trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	4. He can't forget and Jamie doesn't remember

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the prompt: 'Eight/Jamie - They can't change what has been done but they can live in the moment. The Doctor visits Jamie before his regeneration. Post-Time War.' Does little to nothing to fill it.

He can’t forget and Jamie doesn’t remember.

It would be funny if it wasn’t quite so tragic.

Because Jamie is neither happy nor contented, nor any of the other things he promised himself Jamie would be, free from his influence. He looks lost somehow, out of place, and the Doctor can’t help but think of what-ifs and might-have-beens.

It doesn’t matter that he’s old enough to know better.

He stands closer, unable to stop himself. So close he can see the mixture of hope and fear in Jamie’s eyes. It resurrects a thousand treasured memories, so painfully beautiful that he almost forgets to wish they could be in another time, and another place.

Almost.

“I’m not who you want me to be,” Jamie whispers instead, mournful.

The Doctor presses his lips to Jamie’s, just once, and wonders if it will be enough to last him lifetime after lifetime.

“I’m sorry.”

It’ll have to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	5. The Doctor knows he shouldn't...

He shouldn’t encourage it, he knows. Because it’s one thing if Jamie chooses to look at him like that, reach for him like _that_. It’s quite another to let him.

To watch Jamie in turn, to cling to him at every opportunity. That is inexcusable.

“Don’t stare, Jamie,” Zoe says primly on a trip far enough into Jamie’s future for him to gape at the open and enthusiastic displays of same sex affection. “Anybody would think there was something wrong with it.”

“Is there?” Jamie asks him later, hope outweighing the doubt in his voice.

He should explain, he knows. Because he isn’t human, and he isn’t far enough away from Gallifrey to completely disregard everything he’s ever been taught about what that means for such a relationship.

“What do you think?” he asks instead, too aware of the twin thumping of his hearts as he waits for Jamie’s answer.

Jamie has always preferred action to words.

“I love you,” Jamie says afterward, so painfully sincere it takes his breath away.

He shouldn’t respond in kind, he knows. Not because it isn’t true - it is - but because there are so many reasons it can never work, and Jamie doesn’t deserve anything less than happily ever after.

He says it anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	6. Sex Pollen

The Doctor’s explanation was too full and too hurried, unfamiliar words tripping over each other so that Jamie had no hope of making out the gist of them. Zoe, on the other hand, nodded and hmmed in all the right places so that Jamie kicked at the strangely hued stones in their path with more force than was perhaps strictly necessary.

It wasn’t that he was jealous, not really. He was just bored. Sick of their impenetrable science babble.

“Do you understand, Jamie?” The Doctor called, over his shoulder, and if the Doctor wasn’t going to pay enough attention to realise this was all beyond him, Jamie didn’t see why he should have to injure his pride by admitting it.

“Aye,” he called in return, and amused himself with running his fingers over the large scarlet leaves which trailed from the overhead branches. They looked soft but felt sticky, and he wiped his fingers in the fabric of his kilt before reaching for another leaf so he could inspect it more closely.

It looked brighter than it had from afar he decided, more vivid. It had a strong scent too, so strong he didn’t know how he hadn’t already noticed it. It was sweet without being cloying, and he held it closer, the better to inhale the heady mixture. He could spend all day doing nothing but sniffing at it, he thought, and closed his eyes for a long moment to appreciate it without distraction.

“Come on, Jamie!” Zoe called from some distance ahead and, reluctantly, Jamie dropped the leaf. He didn’t want yet another lecture on not paying attention.

* * *

For once the trip was bereft of murderous beasties and, once the Doctor had taken the samples they had come for, they simply turned around and began trudging back in the direction of the TARDIS.

The Doctor and Zoe walked on ahead, again, still talking, and Jamie entertained himself by watching the Doctor, fixating on the way he used his hands as he spoke. From there it was the work of a moment to start thinking about the Doctor’s hands in other situations. About the pleasant weight of them when they rested on his shoulders, and how they might feel against his bare skin.

It was nothing he hadn’t thought of before, alone in the darkness of his room, but here, now, he felt his cheeks burn with shame.

What would the Doctor think of him?

What would the Doctor do to him?

He shuddered, tried to focus on the plants - the _fauna_ , that’s what the Doctor had called it - but that just brought him to the Doctor’s voice, and that to the Doctor’s lips. Jamie bit at his own lip as he imagined the press of the Doctor’s mouth against his, the heat of his breath against the skin of his throat. The slick of his tongue following the path of his talented fingers.

It was too hot, he could hardly breathe, and when he stumbled over an uneven piece of ground he was shocked to realise how desperately aroused he was. His skin was tingling, burning, and when the Doctor turned around to check on him he couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything but struggle for air and tell himself over and over that he needed to regain control of himself.

There was a lady present.

Zoe glanced at him, frowning, and even through the humiliation the ache was still there, still just as insistent. He shut his eyes, panicked at the way the world suddenly seemed to lurch and spin, and when he opened them it was to find the Doctor in front of him, expression full of worry.

“I -” Jamie tried, too aware of the fact he was sweating and shaking. Of the frantic urge to simply lunge at the Doctor.

“Oh, Jamie,” the Doctor said softly. “What am I to do with you?”

Jamie whimpered, helpless, his senses overwhelmed with his earlier thoughts on the subject. The Doctor only stoked the flames higher, reaching out to wipe his damp fringe away from his forehead. Jamie pressed into the touch, his own fingers tangling in the Doctor’s jacket without any conscious decision on his part.

“It’s not far now,” the Doctor said, his tone odd, and Jamie let go though it took far too much effort. He balled his hands into fists instead and let the Doctor lead him along the path.

He was a McCrimmon, and hereditary piper to Clan McLaren.

He wouldn’t give in to this madness in front of the Doctor.

* * *

By the time they reached the TARDIS Jamie wasn’t so sure of himself.

It was the sticky red leaves the Doctor had explained along the way. They were an acute aphrodisiac. Jamie didn’t know exactly what the phrase meant, but assumed it was a fancy term for something that left you in the kind of state he had found himself in.

Zoe was going to work on the samples in the laboratory, the Doctor went on, words hot against the shell of his ear as he leaned in to speak. She had promised not to disturb them until Jamie was feeling better.

Jamie didn’t ask if she knew. He couldn’t bear to hear the answer.

He couldn’t bear anything. Not the closeness of the Doctor, not the supporting arm around his waist, and certainly not the caress of his own clothing against his over sensitive skin. He needed to go to his own room. Needed to lock himself away until the awful wanting subsided. Until he could trust himself again.

Instead the Doctor dragged him to his room, hand around his wrist, and shut the door behind them.

“Doctor,” Jamie gasped, warning, and the word came out so low and so strained it sounded nothing like him.

“Let me help,” the Doctor said, simply, and it was the final straw. Jamie was too far gone, far too close, and before he could process why it was a bad idea their teeth were clashing, his fingers clawing for any part of the Doctor he could uncover.

The Doctor took control, turning Jamie’s uncoordinated desperation into the kind of kiss he had spent many a snatched moment of privacy imagining. Jamie clung to the Doctor, frantic, and when the Doctor backed them towards the bed Jamie went willingly.

“Oh, my,” the Doctor whispered once Jamie had settled heavily against the soft pillows, his chest heaving and his sweater having disappeared. “If you could only see yourself.”

Jamie didn’t want to see himself. He wanted - He just _wanted_.

The Doctor understood. Kissed him, and touched him, and tasted him and it was so so much more perfect than he had ever hoped it could be. His own movements were wild, fevered, and when the Doctor slid down the bed to take him into his mouth he couldn’t do anything but gasp and moan and writhe.

He could feel the Doctor’s own hand moving and when he managed to get his eyes open to watch it was too much, entirely too much for him.

“Doctor!” He cried out, lost, and in answer the Doctor only swallowed around him.

* * *

When he came to it took him a long moment to realise where he was and what had just happened to him. The Doctor was propped on his arm beside him, just watching him with dark eyes that gave Jamie no clue as to what the other man was thinking.

“How are you feeling?” The Doctor asked, sincerely, and the horror of what he had just done fell all around him. He had messed up. He hadn’t listened, hadn’t been careful, and the Doctor had had to -

“I’m sorry,” Jamie said.

“For what?” The Doctor frowned and Jamie didn’t know how to answer. How to best explain that he hadn’t meant to take advantage. Had never meant for the Doctor to know the impure thoughts he had been harbouring on the subject.

His misery must have been writ clear across his face because the Doctor’s expression softened.

“It’s I who ought to be apologising,” the Doctor said with just the barest hint of a smile. “I should have known you wouldn’t be listening.”

Jamie made to protest, to explain further, but the Doctor was kissing him again, the soft brush of lips against his own enough to make him squirm all over again, enough to convince him to slide his fingers into the Doctor’s hair, petting.

“You’re not angry with me, then?” Jamie asked, hardly daring to believe even as a daft smile spread across his face, unbidden.

The Doctor watched him carefully for a moment before an answering grin lit up his face.

“Angry? Jamie, you’ve just made a foolish man very happy!”

All that remained, Jamie decided with a renewed sense of purpose, was to do his best to make the Doctor even happier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


End file.
